A Hangover to Remember
by ThxrinOxkenshield
Summary: Doug decides to invite his sister onto his bachelor party per request of his soon-to-be wife so Alan could be 'kept in check'. Of course, this would mean his sister would have to endure the trip with the one man who made her high school life a nightmare, but now it would seem he wants something completely different. [Phil/OC]
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is a very crude story(obviously), so please do not report. The only character who belongs to me is Clarke Billings. Everything else belongs to the creators of the Hangover.**

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She had never pictured herself as much of a glow up, or one of those after photos after a celebrity's clear nose job. But she supposed, since high school at least, she had definitely improved from what she had previously been, acne covered with her hair constantly pinned back by plaid headbands. Clarke Billings had been the school dork through all four years of high school, adorned in the tacky school-girl outfits most preps wore in those student films with her glasses shielding her very bushy eyebrows where most of her pimples grew. It wasn't as if she was let to forget how bad she looked, too, seeing as she had earned herself two official bullies: Phil Wenneck(The Enforcer) and Stuart Price(The Lookout).

Unfortunately, both of them happened to be her big brother's best friends, so if Clarke ever made an attempt to complain, Doug normally brushed it off by saying Phil and Stu were just messing around. It was an all time low for Clarke until she finally graduated and moved out of state for a university with a law major, until she dropped out two years later and returned in shame, this time looking a lot better than she had before. She had said it was because three seniors had taken her under their wing, but most assumed it was because they kept flushing her glasses down the toilet and she grew tired of having to fish them out.

Her hair was finally allowed to be free to frame her face in chocolate and caramel waves. Clarke received contacts over wearing glasses and it appeared she had plucked her eyebrows and used a ton of Proactive to rid the acne, which eventually succeeded. She even dressed far more freely, but her parents were far more concerned with the fact she had dropped out of law school rather than her successful makeover. Clarke didn't mind. Working from home as a 'newspaper journalist' wasn't too bad; it did, however, turn guys off on the fact she was still living with her parents.

Anyway, Doug's life seemed far much better in comparison, even after graduation. While Clarke was gone failing college, Doug had met an amazing girl, Tracy, and decided to marry her a few weeks after Clarke's miserable return. Nevertheless of her failing life, Clarke was happy for her big brother and promised him any favor he needed since she couldn't afford a wedding gift or...even a nice dress. Come to think of it, what the hell was she going to wear to the wedding?

Back to the subject, the wedding was in just a few days. Tracy and Clarke have been getting along exceptionally well and the two were talking giddily about the bachelorette party Tracy was going to have thrown by another friend who wanted to go all out. Clarke just wanted an excuse to leave her parents for a bit and actually be able to drink without being criticized for it.

Then again, since when would _anything_ go right for Clarke Billings?

"Hey, Clarke," Tracy's father just approached, finding the two pouring over one of Tracy's wedding planners. "Sorry, sorry, for interrupting, but Doug wants ya. He's getting fitted with Alan. If I were you, I'd go in with a rag." Chortling merrily to himself, he stirred the straw that sat in the cup of the mimosa he was holding before trotting off, leaving Clarke to look at Tracy confused.

"Why the hell does he want me?"

"I think it's best if you let him tell you," Tracy was suddenly looking very, very guilty.

"Wait, you know why he wants me?" Clarke asked pointedly, slowly inching herself out of her seat. Tracy slowly nodded, before she cleared her throat and returned to her planner, leaving Clarke staring at her back incredulously before giving up and deciding to find out firsthand exactly what her brother wanted then and there.

The room was a bit far from where they were sitting, so it took Clarke a bit of time to get there, but she eventually did, walking in just as Alan gave an alarmed, shriek, "Woah, watch it, pervert!" Clarke flinched before seeing it was due to the man fitting him doing his inseam. Clarke rolled her eyes and finally strolled all the way in.

"Hello, dear brother, it would appear that I've been summoned," Clarke addressed sarcastically, nodding to Alan as she did so. Alan suddenly gave a bit of an over-friendly smile, making it an obligation to wave at her as she approached Doug, who seemed to be struggling with his cuffs. Clarke slapped his hand away and began to do it herself, looking up at him insistently.

"Hey, how's...how's Tracy?" he asked, letting her help him, but he seemed to be dodging the question, which he often did when he didn't want to tell her something. She frowned, but answered him anyway, "She's fine, going through the normal bridal nervousness, but she hasn't thrown the ring off the roof yet, so that means the wedding is still going on. Now, why did you really call me because right now I'm in a room with my half-dressed older brother and his soon-to-be brother-in-law pointing his ass cheeks at my face."

Both turned at the same time to see Alan bending over once the man was done fitting him, grabbing his things, and taking off. Doug grimaced and turned back to his sister, who smirked at him expectantly.

"I have...a bit of a proposition for you," Doug admitted, but still beating around the bush. He always did that well. He used to do it in their school days when he was trying to tell her that he was inviting Phil and Stu over for a sleepover, but he also didn't want to tell her because he knew how she felt about it.

"Doug, if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to take my itty-bitty knee, you see the one down there? I'm going to take it and drive it right up to your balls, because it would appear they're exposed to me right now," Clarke snapped, finally releasing his wrist. Instinctively, he closed his legs from his stance and cleared his throat, rubbing at his nose before he continued, finally talking to her, "I need you to come onto my bachelor party."

"Excuse me?" Clarke stumbled backward, her eyes widening. "You need me to what?"

"Come to the bachelor party?" Alan asked excitedly, suddenly running forward to throw his arms around her torso in a hug, making Clarke squeak uncharacteristically and glare down at him before looking back up to Doug, scandalized.

"Hear me out, I...it's...Alan, could you do me a favor and go ahead and get your dad and tell them we're done? We need to hurry and get going, buddy." Alan released Clarke and nodded, grabbing his forgotten pants from the floor and trotting out the door, his ass still hanging out and stinging Clarke and Doug's eyes.

"What the hell is going on, Doug? Is this a joke?" Clarke asked.

"Actually, no, and it...wasn't even my idea. It was Tracy's, but she insisted it would sound better coming from me," Doug admitted. "Alan is...an interesting person, but Tracy doesn't really trust him going on this bachelor party alone with Stu, Phil, and me. And...Alan pretty much adores you, so she figured - I mean _we_ figured it'd be best if you went, too, just to keep him in check."

"And you just decided to ask me the day you leave for said bachelor party?" Clarke demanded, steadily growing angrier. "Hang on here a minute, do you mean to tell me that...you want me to drop everything and go to Vegas with you, the two biggest douche bags on earth, _and_ Tracy's mentally incapacitated brother?"

"Well, um, yeah. Look, Clarke, it's just a thing we decided last minute. Tracy wants Alan to feel more comfortable around me, but she also wants to make sure he doesn't ruin the bachelor party. I don't think he'll do anything, but Tracy and even their dad is insisting. Just...look, it's Vegas. S'not like you won't have fun."

Clarke snorted taking a few steps back and rubbing a thumb over her nose. "And, what, Phil and Stu can't help you with the babysitting?"

"He doesn't know them very well. Plus, Alan likes you to the point it creeps me out a lot, but it seems like he'll listen to you. Plus, I guess I need to add the guilt trip. This is for the sake of my wedding, and you're my sister, blah, blah, blah..."

Clarke sighed, blowing a piece of her brown locks out of her eyes before she looked at him again. "So I guess what I get out of all this is going to Vegas?" Doug paused, before nodding.

"Alright, fine!" Clarke threw up her hands in exasperation. "But the first chance Phil or Stu try and fuck with me, I'm taking a taxi back home and leaving your ass in the desert. I'll go pack my things..."

"Uh, actually," Doug stopped her from going any further. "While we were talking, um, Tracy was packing your things. She knew you'd say yes after the guilt tripping." Clarke gave a very fake smile, a tiny nod, before going to leave the room and chew out Tracy for keeping this all from her, but she didn't get a chance seeing as a half-naked Alan and the Garner father had returned.

"Hey, Sid," Doug smiled, going over to shake his hand while Alan passed by Clarke, bending over in a very crude way to grab his forgotten clothes from the ground.

"Hello, Mr. Garner," Clarke greeted with another fake smile, not on first name basis with him just yet.

"Doug! Clarke! Glad to see you two haven't ripped each other's tits off. I take she's going with you officially?" Sid asked.

"You knew?" Clarke asked, her left eye slightly twitching.

"Yeah, we all sort of thought of it. We just kind of left you and Alan out of the loop. Hope you don't mind." Sidney grinned, making Clarke nod and look over to Doug who seemed even more guilty than before.

"I'm going to go get my already packed bag. Doug, I'll meet you out front," Clarke grinned, finally leaving the room. She heard Doug and Sid continue talking while she wandered back to where Tracy was, not at all surprised to see her standing there with an apologetic smile, holding a bag Clarke knew was for her.

"Hope you're still my best friend," Tracy squeaked as Clarke silently made a grab for it, her mouth away from the fake smile into a very tight frown. "Look, Clarke, it's just for Doug. I really want him to be able to let loose and I want him and Alan to get along, but I'm just worried about it, okay?"

"I get it, Trace," Clarke nodded. "I just...it's not even about Alan or Doug, it's about Stu and...and Phil."

"Oh," Tracy's frown turned into a soft smile. "Well, if you're curious, his divorce was finally finalized."

"What?" Clarke asked. "I meant because he treated me like shit, Tracy."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Now go on. Doug's probably waiting for you." Tracy hugged Clarke tightly. "I promise I'll make it up to you once you get back. I'll give you a very nice speech when it's time for the toasts." Clarke rolled her eyes, readjusting her grip on her bag, bid Tracy goodbye, before turning and leaving down the long winding hallways with weird portraits of Alan and Tracy alike before marching out the front door where she saw Doug and Alan sitting snuggly in Sid's beloved Mercedes.

"You springing this shit, big brother?" Clarke asked, now smirking for real as she tossed her bag into the back seat before flipping herself over and buckling herself up in the backseat. "Maybe this shit won't be so bad after all."

"Sid thought it would be nice as some kind of wedding present, don't get too excited," Doug chuckled as he started the car. "Now let's go, we're gonna take up Phil at the school first." Clarke stiffened, but nodded.

For some reason Tracy's words echoed in her mind. Phil was now divorced?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I am terribly sorry for the long wait! I promise this story is not abandoned! Also, a lot of vulgar language is used in this specific chapter, but we get to see interactions between Clarke and Phil!**

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Clarke tapped her foot rather annoyingly as Doug drove, the conversation he was having with Alan drowned out by the music Alan was blasting. He explained as he put the CD in that it was the Jonas Brothers' new hit single. The brunette in the backseat tried to ignore it, but it was hard whenever the bass line hit it would practically make her seat vibrate. She took out her phone and saw several texts from Tracy, all encouraging and assurances of her owing Clarke many favors for this.

Doug _finally_ turned down the music once they reached the school Phil apparently worked at. Parking, he sat back and rubbed his temples, probably already so exasperated by Alan's excitable, albeit odd, personality. Clarke was just glad he hadn't included her in the conversation; she didn't much feel like humoring him so early in the bachelor party she was unfortunately attending. She was going to kill Doug for this in the end. Then again, he just wanted this weekend to be perfect. After all, it was _his_ wedding. And, maybe, this could be her wedding present for him considering she couldn't afford a present in the first place.

"Did you have to park so close?" Alan broke the silence, his head tilted into his open palm that rested on his door. He seemed extremely worried.

"Yeah, what's wrong?" Doug asked.

"I shouldn't be here."

"Why?" Clarke asked, tone deadpan. She wondered what weird excuse Alan would cook up this time; he always seemed to have a very long life of odd occurrences.

"I'm not supposed to be within two hundred feet of a school," he blurted out, letting out a relieved sigh as if he had been keeping such a truth in him for so long.

Doug and Clarke exchanged a look before returning their gazes toward him.

"What?"

"Or a Chuck E. Cheese," Alan added.

"Okay, going to ignore that," Clarke said, giving him finger guns before unbuckling and leaning forward in her seat so she could talk to Doug. "Did you talk to that friend I told you about? Vincent?"

"Yes, and no, I didn't accept his _wedding gift_." Doug declared, suddenly much more brotherly than he was before. Clarke groaned. "I don't want to go into my bachelor party baked out of my mind! How the hell did you find this guy, anyway? You're a journalist!"

"Met him at university before I dropped out," Clarke grinned. "But he's legit. He would've given you a pound free of charge and we could actually live it up in Vegas now that I'm going!"

"A pound?" Doug asked, shocked, Clarke not able to reply since the school bell finally rang and all of the students as well as the staff began to exit, rushing to escape the school for good. Amongst them stood Phil, Clarke bitterly noting that he was much more handsome than when she had seen him last. She frowned and sat back in her seat, scooting over toward the middle since he'd probably force her to anyway, memories of him pushing her into lockers suddenly flooding her mind.

"Mr. Wenneck, I was wondering if you–" One of the students suddenly addressed Phil, but the man quickly and very rudely brushed him off with a mere, "It's the weekend, Budnick, I do not know you, you do not exist!" Clarke scoffed, rolling her eyes as he finally got to the car and unceremoniously tossed his bag into her lap, making her grunt in surprise.

"Do you mind?" Clarke snapped, throwing the bag back at him, which he caught as he stared down at her as if he were trying to solve a very complicated question. Finally, he looked at Doug, "Why the fuck you got a chick in the back? Did the stripper service require carpool?"

"Phil, it's Clarke," Doug hissed angrily, making Phil flinch and turn to Clarke with a much more established, guilty smile. "Sorry, babe, didn't recognize you! Take it as a compliment, strippers are hot." Phil hopped up over the car door, his filthy boots landing on the clean leather of the Mercedes, Doug quickly beginning to protest.

"God! Watch the leather, you– Watch it!" Doug snapped until Phil finally fell correctly into his seat, shoving his bag down behind Alan's seat, settling down with his arm outstretched in the seat behind Clarke's head. Glaring, she lifted his hand and moved it back around. He took no notice, instead hitting the back of Doug's seat, "Shut up and drive before these nerds ask me anymore questions."

Doug rolled his eyes and took off, the Mercedes roaring back to life as they took off from the school in the direction of Stu's home, the only other man attending the bachelor party. Phil turned to her once they got to a stoplight.

"So why are you coming?" he asked.

"Tracy insisted; I guess it's to make sure Doug doesn't live it up with a hooker," Clarke lied, not wanting to offend Alan that she was there for him. "Does it bother you that I'm tagging along?"

"Ruins the whole bachelor part of the deal," Phil started, before smiling again, "but if you're looking the way you do, maybe it isn't so bad." Doug cleared his throat loudly from the front seat, making Phil chuckle and slide away to make him happy, but Clarke could still feel his eyes on her and for some reason it made the female feel all flustered. This was not at all how she pictured their interaction to go; she honestly had thought he would simply ignore her the entire trip just because he found her a nuisance, much like he and Stu had when they were in high school.

The light, thankfully, turned green and the Mercedes moved on again, stopping the conversation altogether since Doug took two more quick rights before slowing down in front of a very lovely home which looked neat and well kept, most likely under the careful and stern watch of Melissa, Stu's long-term girlfriend. Doug told Clarke that she was just high maintenance, but when Clarke had met her at the rehearsal dinner, she was sure the woman was just Satan reincarnated into something much, much worse.

"Someone go ring the doorbell," Doug ushered.

"Nah, nah, I got this," Phil said, shifting in his seat so he was facing the house directly before he cupped his hands around his mouth. "Paging, Dr. Faggot!" Alan let out a small giggle while Doug reached around, attempting to pull Phil hurriedly back into his seat. All Clarke could do was watch amusedly. Since it was one of her bullies being embarrassed, Clarke was all for it. "Dr. Faggot!"

"They have neighbors, asshole!" Doug hissed, now resulting to soft punches to Phil's shoulder.

"Please, it's not like they don't hear Melissa constantly bitching him out," Phil chuckled, sitting correctly in his seat once more since the front door was opening, revealing a nervous looking Stu clutching a duffle bag. "Here he comes. Hope Melissa doesn't see Clarke. Don't think she'd be too happy to know she's coming."

"Shit, you're right," Doug mumbled.

"I could leave," Clarke suggested.

"No, no, you promised Tracy," Doug huffed, turning back to the house. "Thank God. I think she's staying inside. Hurry and get in the car, Stu, hurry up..." Soon, the dentist gave his girlfriend a final kiss before practically sprinting to the car. It appeared she was mad about something, yet again. She had yelled at Stu seven times at the rehearsal dinner. While Clarke wasn't going to pity him, she had to admit she'd hate having a significant other like that, too.

"Screw you, Phil," Stu huffed once he got to the car, moving to the other side to climb in. He paused slightly when he saw Clarke. "Uh..."

"Relax, Stu, she's with us. Now get in before Melissa sticks her nose out." Phil snapped. Stu looked back at the house, nodded, and climbed in, carefully putting his bag at his feet before buckling himself up. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses back up his nose before holding a hand out for Clarke to shake. "Weird to see you, but...hey."

"Yo," Clarke greeted, shaking his hand for about two seconds before taking her hand back and staring ahead as Doug began driving again. "I'm only here to keep my brother in check, so don't feel if you have to hold back on the shit you'll get up to in Vegas." She fixed herself so she wasn't so squished up against the two males beside her. How ironic was it she had to sit between two of her biggest rivals that made her life hell? Was she being punished? Is that what this was?

Soon the four of them were driving on the highway, the wind blowing their hair back and the music much better now since Doug had finally taken the Jonas Brothers CD from the player. Alan had eagerly moved around in his seat, somehow drunk off the atmosphere as he pounded the side of the car, cheering loudly, "WHOO! ROAD TRIP! VEGAS! VEGAS, BABY!" He suddenly spotted a younger girl with her head visible from her open window. She stared at Alan in boredom as he pointed to her. "HEY! VEGAS! VEGAS!" As a response, one of her hands wound outside of the window, flipping Alan the bird.

Clarke snorted, quickly covering her mouth and turning away to hide her laughter.

"Nice, Alan," Phil huffed out a laugh, before he leaned forward and lightly shoved Doug's shoulder. "Let's switch. I can take over."

"You're nuts!"

"Come on, just until Barstow! Everybody's passing us, why are you being such a pussy?" Phil asked, lifting a bottle to his lips. Before they had hit the specific highway, he had pulled out a six pack from his luggage and handed him out. Clarke rejected one, however, not willing to let Phil see her drunk. She wasn't the most graceful when it came to that.

"Absolutely not, I promised Sid," Doug stated. "I will be the only one driving this car. Besides, you're drinking."

"Oh, what are you, a cop now?" Phil asked, before elbowing Clarke. "Is he always this dull? We all know I drive great when I'm drunk."

"True," Stu piped up. "Don't forget, Phil was always our designated drunk driver."

"Yeah, you want to explain it to them, Alan?" Doug turned to him. Alan had calmed down from his previous outburst of excitement, pooling through a book of all things.

"Guys, my dad loves this car more than he loves me, so, yeah," Alan explained.

"Maybe not say it that way, Al," Clarke patted his shoulder. "And even though it makes me want to have my period, I gotta agree with Phil. My wedding gift to you was an infinite guarantee of enjoying this weekend. Do you know how hard it is to find a pound of green for a good amount of money? Vincent isn't an easy bargainer either."

"Ho shit!" Phil choked, setting his bottle down. "You were gonna get us weed?"

"What better way to celebrate Vegas?" Clarke shrugged, going back to her phone.

"Damn, I gotta marry this chick!" Phil threw his arm around her and pulled her close. "Always figured you were a priss back in high school, always wearing those god damn plaid skirts. The fuck was up with that, by the way?" Clarke angrily shoved him away, now put off at the mention of their shared past of her misery and his enjoyment; of course he would paint it as if it were some sort of joke. Well, it wasn't to her. It had hurt. What made it so much worse was she actually had the nerve to like him, to have some sort of sickening crush on the boy who made everything hell for her.

"And you're still the same douchebag, but I always figured that." Clarke shrugged. Stu snorted, and tried to hide it by taking another swig of his drink that Phil had given him. Phil rolled his eyes, but he didn't look so bothered that she rejected him. Quite the contrary, he looked more determined to do it.

"Am I good over there, Alan?" Doug suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Alan barely even glanced at the rearview mirror. "Yeah."

Doug began to shift over, but he quickly stopped when the blare of an eighteen wheeler's horn rang out, making them swerve dangerously and Clarke grip onto the only thing that steadied her, being Phil as he cackled along with Alan's laugh. Stu and Doug thought otherwise, however, both looking paler than before.

"Oh my god!" Alan exclaimed in glee. "That was awesome!"

"That was not awesome! What is wrong with you?" Doug cried out, his voice much more high pitched.

"That was insane, we almost just died!" Stu nervously stated.

Clarke finally got ahold of herself and struggled to look up, unfortunately meeting Phil's face in the process and seeing him smirk innocently down at her. Huffing in anger, she quickly shoved herself off and sidled away from him, not caring at all that this meant she was pressing into Stu's side. Anything was better than clinging onto Phil, no matter how warm or comfortable he was.

After getting over the initial shock of Alan's mistake, Doug had taken a quick exit to stop at the nearest gas station for a pick me up and fill the Mercedes up. Everyone but Alan made their way inside to grab what they wanted for the road before they arrived at the Vegas hotel. Clarke hummed as she grabbed a pack of sour patch kids as well as a coke before she rushed to the counter where the other guys stood, already having placed their things in the pile.

"I think you have a problem with me," Phil suddenly spoke up as Doug browsed the packs of gum at front.

"And what gave you that idea?" Clarke asked innocently.

"I'm excellent at body language. It's how I scored my first marriage," Phil smirked.

"Really? And...how'd you score your first divorce?" Clarke retorted.

"Guys," Doug interrupted. "Save the animosity for when you're gambling. I'm tired of you two bickering."

Clarke huffed, but nodded. Phil, however, turned his attention toward Alan outside, who seemed to be slandering at a poor old man who had initially been admiring the Mercedes with interest.

"You know, he's kind of funny." Phil pointed out.

"Yeah, he means well," Doug nodded.

"Is he all there? Like...mentally?" Phil asked.

"I think so; he's just an odd guy. You know, he's kind of weird."

"I mean, should we be worried? We do got a chick with us."

Clarke glared.

"No, he's fine. Tracey did mention we shouldn't let him gamble. Or...Clarke shouldn't let him gamble. Or drink too much," Doug admitted.

"God, he's like a gremlin. Comes with instructions and shit," Phil grumbled.

"Try being put in charge of him. I actually have to watch to poor sucker all weekend while you guys live it up," Clarke finally confessed, figuring Phil and Stu would realize sooner or later. "Maybe I should just drug him and leave him in the hotel room while we're all downstairs and just tell him he passed out."

"Clarke!"

"What? I'm joking!"

Stu finally arrived, placing his hand over the lot of them as he said, "And one water!"

"All good with Melissa?" Doug asked.

"Oh, yeah. Told her we're two hours outside of wine country, and she bought it. She still doesn't know about Clarke, which no offense, is a good thing," Stu shrugged.

"No, it's fine, I kind of don't want her to know I'm at the wedding either. Just tell her I died," Clarke smiled, wincing as Doug pinched her to shut her up.

"You think it's strange you've been in a relationship with her for years and you have to lie about Vegas?" Phil snorted.

"Yeah, I do, but trust me, it's not worth the fight." Stu sighed.

"Oh, so you can go to Vegas, but she can fuck a bellhop on a Carnival Cruise Line?"

"Hey," Doug said, eyeing the cashier who had looked up in surprise at that sudden announcement. Clarke's eyes had even widened; she didn't know that Melissa had cheated on him.

"Shit, Stu, you're actually obligated to hook up with a prostitute tonight," Clarke grinned. "My buddy, Candice, works for three hundred a night!"

"What? No! First of all, he was a bartender and she was wasted. And, if you must know, he didn't even come inside her!"

"And you believe that?" Clarke asked. "Okay, I'm going to say this as a woman and also because I'm kind of getting a kick out of seeing you uncomfortable, we dig that shit, okay? Maybe not a complete fucking stranger, but sometimes a bare dick is the best kind."

"Clarke!" Doug hissed.

"That'll be 32.50," the cashier said finally, looking as if she wanted to be rid of them all now.

"It's 32.50, you wanna pay for it?" Phil turned to Stu.

Stu looked absolutely furious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I apologize for the long wait! But thank you all so much for the positive reviews. I am so happy you enjoy Clarke as much as I do developing her. She's a fun character I get to play around with. I hope you enjoy this chapter; it's a tad longer than the other ones and I hope you guys like it.**

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Soon enough, the five of them were back on the road, Doug giving into Phil's complaints and going just a bit faster. Alan had finally went quiet, bringing out some sort of poker book that he had marked with sticky notes and highlighters. That definitely surprised Clarke; she was surprised Alan could even read, let alone mark a few points to help himself. Shaking her head of the oddity, she opened her box of sour patch kids and poured a few into her hand, popping them into her mouth.

"Alright, it says here that we should work in teams." Alan spoke, finally breaking the silence. "Who wants to be my spotter?"

Clarke closed her eyes for a moment, contemplating whether she should even dignify that with a response. Giving in, she opened her eyes and leaned forward as she gently patted Alan's shoulder. "Hey, buddy, I actually don't think you should be doing much gambling this weekend, okay?"

"Oh, c'mon, Clarke!" Alan exclaimed, lifting a hand to gently caress hers. Flinching, Clarke gave him a nervous smile and skillfully pulled it back. "Who said anything about gambling? It's not considered gambling if you know you're gonna win! Counting cards is an indefinite foolproof system."

"It's also illegal," Stu cut in while Clarke finally leaned back in her seat, Phil pulling at her wrist to pour some of the candies into his hand before he popped them into his own mouth.

"It's not illegal, it's frowned upon, like masturbating on an airplane," Alan snorted.

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal, too," Doug added.

"Yeah, maybe after 9/11, where everybody got so sensitive," Alan scoffed. "Thanks a lot, Bin Laden."

"Either way, you gotta be super smart to count cards, buddy, okay?" Clarke reminded, taking back her wrist with a nasty glare. Phil winked at her, smirking as he chewed at the tiny gummies.

"Tell that to Rain Man because he practically bankrupted a casino, and he was a ruhtard," Alan said matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"He was a ruhtard."

Clarke opened her mouth and closed it repeatedly. Finally, she said, "Retard, Alan, retard."

Phil snickered into his right hand, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe Alan could be such an...Alan. Clarke shook her head. She was going have to go through an entire weekend with this man, as well as her two bullies, and her brother who deserved the best but at the moment Clarke wanted to give him the worst.

From that point on for the long ass ride, courtesy of a paranoid Doug, it was quiet. The sun was slowly darkening and the lights ahead were just dazzling her gaze, telling her instantly they were fast approaching the large, gambling city. For a moment, she managed to forget her predicament and smile as she slightly edged her way out of her seat, leaning forward to where Doug and Alan were sitting, looking around in amazement.

Despite her, rather, oddly eventful life, she had never stepped foot in Las Vegas. Much like other famous cities like New York City or Miami, it was way out of her budget. She was sure she would have to pickpocket her 'companions' just to get a single game of poker in to gamble herself. After all, you do have to spend money in order to get money.

She felt a light tug at the belt loop of her shorts, however, pulling her back into her seat, giving the hand better access to caress her more intimate curves. Gazing up at who it belonged to, she gave her more sinister glare to Phil. "Is there a reason you need to manhandle me right this second?" she snarled angrily.

"Uh, yeah," he said, averting eye contact for a moment before they lit up once more as if he had gained an answer almost automatically, "safety precaution. You're in a moving vehicle, you're supposed to stay in your seat."

"I thought you were a teacher, not a cop," Clarke huffed, rolling her eyes before she plucked away his hand. "And unless you want to keep beating your meat every night successfully, I suggest you keep me from snapping your wrist." Yet again, which infuriated her even more, he didn't seem the least bit threatened by her outburst. In fact, he looked quite humored by it. Why couldn't he take a hint?

Before she could rip his head off, Doug slowly peeled off the highway toward one of the more busy streets, taking a left before a right, then they were slowly pulling into the valet before Caesar's Palace, the hotel the five of them would be staying at. Doug and Alan got out first, followed shortly by Stu, and then Phil, but the teacher waited behind in order to help Clarke out. She thanked him rather grumpily before quickly following her brother in order to distance herself and Phil even more. Despite her obvious heartbeats as well as her red face, she was not going to give in. It wasn't right.

"Melissa would love this," Stu sighed in amazement as he began walking up the short steps.

"Like she loved that bartender?" Phil playfully teased as he eyed a few girls who just exited the hotel, all adorned in skimpy clothing. They giggled and waved to Phil, sipping at their fruity drinks. Phil played along, winking at them with a light grin. Now a tad more furious, though not out of jealousy as she so told herself, Clarke threw open the door and strode in, the boys following behind her as she made her way toward the front desk, thankful it wasn't terribly busy and they wouldn't have to wait.

"Hi! Welcome to Caesar's," the woman greeted, giving a fake smile she probably gave everyone who went up to that desk. Clarke couldn't blame her. They all greeted her simultaneously, moving around so they stood practically shoulder-to-shoulder at the front desk. "Checking in?"

"Yeah," Stu answered, who was to Clarke's left. "We have a reservation under Dr. Price."

"Okay, let me look that up for you," the woman nodded, turning to the computer screen available to her.

"Dr. Price?" Phil suddenly repeated, appearing at Clarke's right. "Stu, you're a dentist, okay? Don't try and get fancy."

"It's not fancy if it's true," Stu coughed, trying to defend himself as he gave the woman a calm smile, to which she returned. Clarke snorted, rolling her eyes. Even she had to side with Phil on this one.

"He's a dentist, don't get too excited," Phil laughed, holding a hand up. "And if, uh, someone has a heart attack, you should still call 911."

"We'll be sure to do that," the woman coyly said, playing along. Clarke grinned, trying to hide her laughter from Stu, who looked far more put out now.

"It's alright, Stu, I'm sure someone will wanna call you for a cavity fill," Clarke patted him on the back, once again feeling a tad better about herself just because he wasn't about himself. God, that sounded so terrible.

"Can I ask you a question?" Alan suddenly cut in, making everyone turn. "Do you know if the hotel's pager-friendly?"

"What do you mean?" the woman replied questionably.

"I'm not getting a sig on my beeper," Alan explained, as if that helped.

"I-I'm not sure."

"Is there a payphone bank?" Alan continued. "Bunch of payphones? Business."

"Um, there's a phone in your room."

"That'll work!" Alan chirped, slipping his beeper back into his pocket. Clarke rolled her eyes and turned to the woman, looking sympathetic as she said, "I'm sorry. He's just been following us around for two hours, and we don't know how to get him to go away."

"Um, no, no. He's with us," Doug said quickly, seeing as the lady picked up her phone to call security. "She's just joking, aren't you, Clarke?"

"We'll see."

"Okay! Um, so, I have you in a two-bedroom suite on the 12th floor. Is that okay?" the woman asked, smiling, probably wanting to get rid of them as fast as she could.

"Sounds perfect," Doug nodded, also wanting to move this along.

"Actually, I was wondering if you had any villas?" Phil suddenly asked, flashing her a manipulative grin as he leaned across the counter. Clarke had seen that grin thousands of times back in high school when he would attempt to flirt with the cheerleaders.

"Phil, we're not even going to be in the room," Stu intervened.

"It's unnecessary," Doug agreed.

"It's no big deal, we can share beds. It's one night!"

"Wait, we're sharing beds?" Clarke asked, looking at Stu scathingly.

"Um, if we're sharing beds, I'm bunking with Clarke," Alan instantly called, making everyone turn to him again. He looked at Clarke. "You good with that?"

"Um...no, I'm not good with that," Clarke shook her head.

"Yeah, yeah, she doesn't need to bunk with you," Phil quickly cut off the idea. "And, newsflash guys, we're not sharing beds. What are we, twelve years old? Lisa, is it? I apologize. How much is the villa?"

"Well...we have one villa available and it's 4,200 for the night," she stated.

"Is it awesome?" Alan asked.

"It's pretty awesome," Lisa nodded.

"We'll take it. Stu, give her your credit card." Phil beckoned at the dentist.

"I can't give her my credit card," Stu slowly shook his head.

"We'll split it," Doug shrugged, beginning to take out his wallet.

"Are you crazy? No, this is on us," Phil pushed a hand out to stop him.

"I agree with Phil," Clarke nodded, only doing so because she knew all she had in her wallet at that moment was a pack of gum and her expired driver's license.

"You don't get it," Stu huffed. "Melissa checks my statements."

"We just need a credit card on file," Lisa explained. "We won't charge you until you check out, so you can figure it out then."

"Perfect! That's perfect! Thank you, Lisa. We'll deal with it tomorrow. Come on!" Phil leaned over Clarke's head in order to swat at Stu's chest gently.

"Fine," Stu huffed, reaching into his pocket.

"Can I ask you another question?" Alan said, making Lisa struggle not to roll her eyes as she looked at him.

"Sure."

"You probably get this a lot. This isn't the real Caesar's Palace, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did, uh, did Caesar live here?"

"Um, no."

"I didn't think so," Alan flushed, finally backing away from the counter as Stu handed over his credit card and they finally grabbed their luggage, making their way towards the elevators once they retrieved the key card meant for the villa. Clarke squeaked in excitement as she pushed the button, bouncing on the balls of her heels. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. She could just monitor Alan in the villa and pig out on all the alcohol that was most likely inside.

It only took a few minutes in the elevator and a walk down the long white hallway before they arrived to the correct door, Stu pushing in the key card before opening the door and walking in, Clarke gasping as she looked around in utter amazement. The villa was absolutely _huge_ , decked out with loveseats and couches, a beautiful view of Vegas, a small mini-bar like Clarke predicted, as well as five separate rooms for them to sleep in, which made it perfect for them.

"Holy shit!" Stu exclaimed, dropping his bags and looking around.

"I so need to call Candice and Vincent. They would totally dig this shit!" Clarke exclaimed, kicking off her shoes before jumping across the couch and peeking out of the window, practically drooling at the amazing view of the lights and the buzzing life it had below. She pressed a hand to it.

"Now this is Vegas!" Phil grinned.

"Oh, my-this place is enormous!" Doug gushed. "Is this all one suite? Thank you, guys! Or...should I say...thank you, Stu!"

"No problem, it's only because I love you," Stu smiled.

"Okay, ladies, pick a room, get dressed," Phil ushered, grabbing his bag that he had thrown to one of the loveseats. "Let's be ready in thirty minutes."

"Um, actually," Clarke said, turning away from the window. "I think I'm gonna stay here. I'm not gonna crash the bachelor party anymore than I already am."

"Um, actually," Phil snorted, walking up to her to grab at her outstretched arm and pull her to her feet. "no, you're not. You're gonna get dressed and be ready, too. As far as I'm concerned, you're as much as a bachelor as the rest of us!" He cringed and gave a small smile. "That came out wrong. Just...go get ready. We're not leaving unless you're coming, too. Go on, go." He pushed her towards one of the rooms gently.

Clarke couldn't help but smile. He actually wanted her to participate with them? Originally she had thought herself a nuisance, a party pooper, pretty much a downer on the party, but Phil obviously thought otherwise if he was making her get ready, too. Shaking her head, she grabbed her bag and made her way to the first room available, feeling her mouth drop at the size of it. There was a queen sized bed, a golden coated vanity, her own personal bathroom, and a tiny mini-fridge that was probably full to the brim in alcoholic beverages.

She opened her bag after she tossed it gently onto the bed, fishing through the clothes Tracy had packed for her, frowning as she went through it all. None of these clothes were hers. For one thing, all of them were skimpy, tight dresses Clarke would never wear, and none of them were in her budget. Clarke clicked her tongue. Tracy had given Clarke all of her dresses, probably to impress Phil as Tracy had mentioned before she had left. Of course she did.

Shaking her head, she grabbed the dress nearest her before disappearing in the bathroom to freshen up and change. The dress was simple, a sleeveless purple that stopped halfway down her thighs. Considering her and Tracy's different figures, it was a tad tight, but it wasn't at all uncomfortable. Her only problem was she couldn't zip it up.

"Fuck me," she sighed angrily, deciding to deal with that later as she fixated her attention on her hair instead, before going onto makeup. Finally stepping out, she made way for the only heels Tracy packed, which were a faded black type, slipping them on. Just as she began to flatten the dress around her midriff, the door opened and Phil poked his head in, seeming to be wearing a well worn suit that showed off a bit of his chest. Clarke forced herself to look away, instead looking back down at herself to make sure there weren't any stains or anything like that.

"May I?"

"Excuse me?" Clarke looked back up at him.

"I meant...can I zip up your dress. It's kind of...well, it's all the way open," he stated, fully inviting himself in.

"Oh, uh...yeah, sure." She turned and moved her hair to the side, looking away. A moment later, she shivered in surprise to feel his cold hands at her back, one caressing her side to keep her in place while the other pulled the zipper all the way up. "Erm...thank you."

Phil coughed and nodded, backing away. "Yeah, no...no problem."

Clarke turned to him and finally gave herself the opportunity to fully see what he was wearing, particularly eyeing the chest region. "Damn, I guess divorced guys do clean up well."

"That's the first compliment you've given me all day," Phil laughed, giving a genuine smile. "Gotta say, though, you are definitely rocking the dress. To think you were just gonna stay here and not show everyone your fine ass..."

"Charming," Clarke smirked, "but I'll take that compliment. Thanks."

They stared at each other for a long while, the awkward silence not feeling so awkward for either of them. Clarke chastised herself mentally; she was supposed to hate this guy. But...how could she when his eyes were as blue as they were, looking into her own brown ones with the same sort of expression?

"Listen, I..." Phil started, but he never got the chance to continue since Clarke's door opened again, revealing Doug all dressed up as well. The two jumped away from each other, clearing their throats awkwardly and giving Doug nervous smiles.

"Hey, guys, you ready?" Doug asked, oblivious to the moment he just interrupted. "C'mon, let's go and see if Stu managed to follow the same time." He left again.

"Guess we better go," Clarke mumbled, looking up at Phil. "Thanks...again, for zipping me up." Smiling truthfully, she strode past him toward the door to follow Doug, completely unaware of the way he stared at her then, not in the perverted way he did every woman or seductive like he did those he wanted to bag. The expression was sincere, genuine, as if he wanted to tell her something that meant the world to him.

Instead, he followed her silently.


End file.
